


how dull it is to pause

by summerstorm



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Gags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan always tries to keep the noise to a minimum when Jenna's home, but he's been even more careful about it since their fake break-up and then their real break-up and everything that happened with Jenna and Katherine—none of which Elena's in the mood to rehash right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how dull it is to pause

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime after By the Light of the Moon, but there are only semi-specific spoilers/references up to Masquerade. Written for the Porn Battle XII prompt "giggle" and the gags square on my kink-bingo card. Title from Tennyson.

"Your aunt's going to hear us," Stefan says quietly, locking Elena's bedroom door like there's a tiny living creature trapped in the bolt that might die if he pulls the lock shut too quickly. It frankly sounds more suspicious to Elena than just pushing the door shut, which is what she normally does even when she doesn't have Stefan over.

Elena holds back a grin, the corners of her mouth only curling up slightly as she presses a kiss to Stefan's jaw. "She _will_ with that attitude," she teases, a whisper laced with mockery. Stefan always tries to keep the noise to a minimum when Jenna's home, but he's been even more careful about it since their fake break-up and then their real break-up and everything that happened with Jenna and Katherine—none of which Elena's in the mood to rehash right now.

She steps closer, forcing Stefan's fists away from the hem of her shirt. He curls strong hands around her waist instead, his fingers brushing skin where her shirt rides up, and lets Elena pin him to the door with her body. The locked door rattles loudly in place and Stefan's mouth shifts into an indignant line.

This time, a laugh makes its way out of Elena's throat. "You're being ridiculous," she says fondly, rubbing her hands over his chest, his neck, before beginning to unbutton his shirt. Their hips fit together; Elena's position would be a little precarious with anyone else, hanging back like this, but Stefan holds her in place without any difficulty.

"There's nothing ridiculous about keeping our sex life private from your family."

Elena raises her eyebrows.

"That's different," Stefan points out. "Besides, you know what happens when I try to kick him out."

"Fine," she says, because whatever, it's true that telling Damon he's being a nuisance just gives him reason to be even more annoying. If Elena never has to have sex while Damon tries to guess the cause of each and every noise she makes from downstairs, it will be too soon.

His shirt is open now; she tugs it down his arms, dragging the process out a little, pressing her breasts to his chest as she goes. The first hand she frees of its sleeve comes up to her face, tilting her chin into a kiss, and she hangs onto his other wrist, shirt caught between Stefan and the door, dangling from between her fingers. After a while, she lets it go, raising her arm over his shoulder, and he tugs down the sleeves of her t-shirt, the straps of her bra. His fingers sneak into one of the cups, pinching a nipple.

She pulls back and unclasps her bra, and wishes she was wearing a shirt she could just let fall off her arms along with it. Her breasts stick out like this, framed by the mass of fabric rolled down beneath them and Elena's stomach pressed to Stefan's body with her shoulders rolled back, and it only takes Stefan a tug on the hanging back strap of her bra to free her nipples. She moans, relaxed in his hold, enjoying the new gentle coolness on her skin.

Stefan makes an appreciative sound and says, distracted but clearly not distracted enough, "It would probably be useful if you learned to control that exhibitionistic streak."

"I have no such thing. At least not in the way you're suggesting." She gives a coy one-shouldered shrug then, not entirely sure what she's implying. She just likes to freak out Stefan; he's not exactly close-minded, but he can get a little hung up on Elena's suggestions sometimes, like a double-take before he agrees to try it. Elena's not even that kinky; she thinks he just didn't expect her to be so open about sex from the get-go, and he hasn't gotten entirely used to it yet.

"That's not a good look," he says, still whispering, and there it is, that expression on his face that mixes reluctance to know what Elena's thinking with this complete, fond, even curious willingness to hear her out.

Elena really doesn't have much of an exhibitionistic streak, but Stefan's quietness gives her a different idea.

She takes a couple of steps back, surprisingly steady on her feet, staying close enough for her fingertips to reach his shoulder. She doesn't take her eyes off him. "Don't move," she says, and stops touching him.

"Okay." He shoves his hands down his pockets, shrugging, and leans back against the door.

It's still light out, the sun filtering in brightly, and Elena can't help glancing down, the angle of his arms calling attention to his stomach and hipbones, the outline of his cock in his jeans. She bites her lower lip, staring, her inner thighs contracting impatiently, and shakes her head to snap out of it. She has other things to focus on right now.

Elena wouldn't call herself shy, especially not around Stefan, but she still feels a pang of giddy embarrassment when she steps out of her jeans and drags her panties down her legs. Pressing her knees together is a pointless instinct, but she lets it happen all the same, skin sliding together as she reaches down to remove the panties from her feet. She holds them up, raising an eyebrow at Stefan as she bundles the fabric until it's all in her hand.

She doesn't move as she says, "I think I could fit these in your mouth. What do you think?" Stefan frowns at her, the corner of his mouth turning up a little. "You want to be quiet, right? So you'll be. I mean, let's be honest: if one of us has a problem shutting up during sex, it's not me."

The expression in Stefan's face stays thoughtful for a while, unreadable, and then it shifts to an impressed nod and he crosses the distance between them, walking Elena back and hauling her up so he can drop her in her bed.

Stefan goes with it when she rolls them over, straddling his hips tightly, and in turn she allows him to distract her for a while. They get rid of the rest of her clothes between kisses, Stefan propped up on an elbow to mouth and nip at her breasts when she pulls her shirt over her head, one hand on her knee and the other brushing her stomach, feathery soft touches that he knows make her shiver.

Her teeth trap her lip as she opens her palm over his shoulder, pushing him back until he's lying down. She drags her panties along his collarbone and watches his smile grow more amused and affectionate when she touches his neck, his jaw.

"I like you," Stefan says, reeling in the grin, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Elena smiles widely and thumbs at his lower lip. "You do like me, don't you?"

"I do," Stefan says, solemn in that way that seems exaggerated but completely genuine, and Elena laughs. Her mouth settles on a content pout.

He opens his mouth under the pressure, not putting up any resistance as she uses her fingers to slide the fabric inside his mouth. Choking isn't really a risk for Stefan, what with how he doesn't need to breathe, but Elena finds herself asking him to signal if it's too much anyway.

When she's satisfied, she lets go of the fabric and cups his face in her hands. "That was a great last thing to say," she tells him. Stefan shrugs with that look that says _I know_ , and moves his palms to her bare thighs, stroking them for barely a few seconds before one of his hands shifts to her stomach and lower, fingers sliding easily between her legs, getting her wet, wetter. She rocks down against them and he makes a small noise through his nose that makes him close his eyes, a microsecond of embarrassment.

When he opens them again, it feels like he's switched gears; like he's traded sound for motion, for body language. He rolls his hips up against her, his head tilting back, and she has no reason not to listen. With quick hands, she opens his jeans, and hoists herself up on her knees so she can push them down along with his boxers. Stefan follows her movement with his hand, using the extra room to push a couple of fingers inside her.

His jeans are close to his ankles when she decides he can kick them the rest of the way off; she lets her hands fall at either side of his knees and rocks against his hand, throwing her head back.

It occurs to her that in normal circumstances he'd probably say something about how comfortable she looks, unabashedly grinding down on his fingers, and she smiles at the thought, letting her lids drop. She hears the rustle of denim when Stefan toes off his jeans, the moment their weight hits the floor, the momentary slowness of his fingers, and lets herself enjoy that for another second before straightening up and reaching for his wrist.

Stefan doesn't let go immediately, but he slows down, crooking his fingers to make her moan as they slide out of her, keeping them still between her thighs as he works her clit a while longer with his thumb. She holds onto his forearm and wets her lips, feeling a tightness curl in her stomach and damp heat along her inner thighs.

When he finally pulls his hand back, he wraps it around his cock, slicking himself up with it, and Elena shifts forward on her knees, watching him as she gets ready. She meets his eyes when her hands are on his hipbones; he looks kind of ridiculous, gagged like that, and he can't really smirk, but there's a brightness in his eyes, and the way his head tips back when she lowers herself on his cock tells her enough.

He lets her lead, and she doesn't so much pick a rhythm as she starts moving and immediately realizes she can't hold back any longer, not when she has him laid out like this, not when his hands are all over her, if he can't tell her she looks gorgeous, he _will_ get the message across in some other way.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate it when he says it, but there's so much more to what he's doing now than that; he's learned so much about her, and she feels it in every pinch at the underside of her breasts, every fingertip skating like a ghost up the back of her thighs, the drag of his nails along the small of her back.

Her orgasm takes over like a bright light, her eyes shutting closed, every part of her body but her hips stilling. She doesn't lean over deliberately, but stays propped up on her hands by his shoulders, rocking her hips faster. She noses the hanging end of her panties up over his cheek, the smell of her so subtle it's almost unnoticeable, and, once the fabric's out of the way, she licks his lip. She hits cotton with her tongue, and he comes on the spot, his hands curled tight around her knees.

She lies on her side and looks at him while he winds down, ignoring the _you're being creepy_ look he shoots her at one point, her thumb tangling in the lacy edges of her underwear. She draws it out slowly, trying not to giggle and failing every time she blinks and sees him again. He raises an eyebrow at her and squeezes an arm under her side, around her back, pulling her closer until she's lying half on top of him.

"I'm never going to get these out if you don't let me," she says, and he deliberately goes still and nods for her to go on.

She does, but only because she likes to kiss him when they're both naked and a little tired—when they're both naked and she's tired, anyway—which she does as soon as the panties are out, before he has a chance to speak. He holds her close by the back of her neck, kissing her until she feels warm and giddy.

"So?" she prompts, her lips still brushing his.

"I don't really have anything to say," Stefan says, his voice rough, and Elena smiles into another kiss.


End file.
